


Ah, His Voice! It Speaks to Me Through the Radio.

by writing_blockhead



Category: Orbiting Human Circus of the Air (Podcast), Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ??? idk if it is, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Acceptance of Queers at the Old Times, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Narrator and Character Interactions, also, also beware! long-ass tags and long-ass fic with a weird-ass format, also those two aren't oc's, but have some gays!!!, self-indulgent fanfics and au's from me ahahahahaha, that was basically Brendon Urie and human Sapphire with a power to see the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_blockhead/pseuds/writing_blockhead
Summary: A janitor from below, dreams big but could never progress, and a host from above, dazzling persona but humble inside.
  
  I wonder what happens if someone's love is broadcasted on the radio, shocking audiences and the men from above and below.
  
  Join me, as I, recently-dubbed as Sam, narrate the tale of Jack, the janitor, and elusive host, Mark Fischbach in "Ah, His Voice! It Speaks to Me Through the Radio."





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello, it me, blockhead. omg, guys, you don't wanna know how much i love the new podcast from Night Vale Presents, Orbiting Human Circus of the Air. it's so whimsical, fresh yet cool, and it's gOT FUCKING SWING AND ORCHESTRA I LOVE IT TO BITS ALREADY-—
> 
> anyways, this is probably the longest fic i made bc detail means to much to me or i'm like Mark in this fic; naturally talkative due tk his career 
> 
> enjoy tho!

**_From somewhere high above, red curtains draw back and the giant “ON AIR” sign is lit with marvelous bright light! But down below, the stations rapidly switch, groaning at the sound when they reach the wrong station._ **

_"Live, broadcasting from the top of the Eiffel—“_

**_They skipped their target, heart skipping a beat at the realization as they frantically turn the knob back to the previous station and turned the volume up._ **

_“—biting Human Circus of the Air, featuring the guest musical performance of Panic! at the Cabaret and the rare Blue Jewel! I’m your host for tonight, Mark— But aren’t I always the host for the rest of the week? Geez, my confidence is slowly turning to narcissism. That ain’t good news.”_

_**The crowd on the ballroom where the live broadcast is held laughs at the comment the radio host had made. His demeanors were as bright and lively per usual, making the audience fall in love with the radio show and human circus again and again.** _

_**It wasn’t just the lights, the fascinating sights, the classy theme, the featured stories and the music that made people listen or go to the show again and again; it was the host himself, Mr. Mark Fischbach that enamored the public on this peculiarity. He was like a magnet of attention, never failing to draw people and pulling the heartstrings of women, and admittedly, some men to infatuation.** _

_**I’m not the type to flock over Mark Fischbach in here, but it’s impossible to hate him! With his locks of raven hair, slicked when on air but free and fluffy when he ruffles it, his baritone voice that melts the hearts of millions and his small but muscular stature! But we do not speak of me here; we speak about those souls who are in love with Mark Fischbach.** _

_**Well, only one soul; one soul that I know so well.** _

_**One of those infatuated souls is a janitor. A janitor with dreams to become a host or something similar to a host but rejected for seven times in various stations or shows. A janitor who loves the show and gets to hear it up close but it’s still far from reach. A janitor who’s very awkward and clumsy that it frustrates the chief stage hand to a point where it’s doesn’t inconvenience everyone else. And he’s glad that he doesn’t because he’d be jobless and homeless once he gets fired.** _

_**He doesn’t live in a house, nor an apartment or a hotel room. He lives in a useless storage room in top of the Eiffel Tower that he made use of. It’s terrible, but he made do by decorating it with various sundries and useless miscellaneous that made the dull and dark storage room brighter. Janitor of the Eiffel Tower; he is the meek but positive Jack.** _

“I’m not infatuated! I just adore his work!”

_**He is currently in his room, listening to the show on going, content being in place. He dares not to make a stunt such as sneaking out to see the show, as much he is intrigued and curious. It’d cost him the opportunities of seeing Mark Fischbach ever again!** _

“Or y’know, cost me my job, my home and my pay. That’s more important than fucking Adonis in a suit and who wears glasses.”

_**I know, Jack, but isn’t he the reason why you’re here in this excuse of a bedroom that’s on top of the Eiffel Tower? Isn’t he the drive to cause you to move from Ireland and end up in Paris? Didn’t he inspire you to be a man who talks for a living or a passion, entertaining people and captivating them?** _

“I… Whatever, you’re right. You’re always right, I get it.”

_**I know.** _

“He’s just so… Ugh, he makes me melt into a mass of Sean ‘Jack’ William McLoughlin. I know, he was my idol, he still is! But as months pass by, I saw him in a new perspective. He, uh, he grew much more appealing. His eyes aren’t just eyes to see, but to look through his soul and seeing the fire and love he does with his work. His hair isn’t just hair, but a crown upon his head that shows not only sophistication. But when he takes off the slick, it goes fluffy like a mane and it makes him look kinder and friendly. And his voice, oh, his voice. If the eyes are the window through the soul, I would say that it’s Mr. Fischbach’s voice that takes the most part. You know this, don’t you?”

 ** _Frankly, I’m not the one neck deep over him. Sure, I like the overall aesthetics of him, but it’s only to an ‘Oh-He’s-Just-An-Amazing-Man-In-General’ extent. You, on the other hand, are in love with him. Despite the minimal interactions you two have, you still love him_**.

“I know, I know. The only interaction between me and him is just me, cleaning his dresser room two days ago and he’s in said room. Hell, I clean his room on a basis but it’s rare to have those two possibilities into one current event.”

_**Enjoyed every single second of said event?** _

  
“Yes, I’m not even going to lie at this point.”

  
_**Aww, you’re lovesick!** _

“Hey! Mr. Fischbach is generally a nice man! I kept quiet when I cleaned his room, but he asked who am I and started up a rather delightful banter. He assumed that I was pretty lonesome, even with another presence in the room, so he wanted to talk. I rather enjoyed the conversation and he is such a delightful and down-to-earth man. Mr. Fischbach was exuberant and simple, not extravagant and superior.”

**_And you fell deeper in to the rabbit hole, didn’t you?_ **

“Yes, I did…”

_“…you so much for enjoying the musical opening, ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to give a little background on our cabaret band here and the Blue Jewel. Panic! at the Cabaret is a one-man band, actually! It’s held by Mr. Urie who can play various instruments at the same time with the help of his newest contraption, the Trend Setter!”_

**_The audience, including Mark Fischbach and Blue Jewel, clapped with enthusiasm as Mr. Urie bowed down to the applause and his stage raised up via mechanical parts underneath to let the people spectate the Trend Setter._ **

_“Now, Mr. Urie! Can you tell us how did you come up with this device and how does this work?”_

_“Thank you, Mr. Fischbach. Well, I created this in memory of my previous band members who have left my band due to certain circumstances. I simply cannot play this alone and I wanted our band to continue, so in loving memory, I have created the Trend Setter. Now, to play this…”_

**_Jack smiled at his listened to the show, leaning on the window beside his makeshift hammock. He honestly doesn’t know why there is a window on a storage room, but he didn’t complain. It had a view to kill for; the lovely skies and clouds and the birds and kites, flying around during the day and the starry night at night sky and the electric lights that are akin to the stars in the eve._ **

**_As much as he is content, he still craves more. Better room, better view, better pay, better opportunities, better ways to meet his idol. To go beyond to what he is right now is what he desires, but what he has right now can’t help him go beyond._ **

**_The janitor felt like he’d be mocked over with his wildest dreams, so he conjured up a figment of his imagination in a form of a narrator to vent out what he feels and what he dreams of like a hopeless maniac._ **

“You make me sound like I’m a crazy fucker; everyone should get a cool narrator.”

**_Thank you, Jack._ **

**_The crowd at the broadcast ballroom once again gave a rather loud applause after Mr. Urie’s explanation that was surprisingly unlike a boring drawl of a scientist._ **

“I can agree to that.”

_“…should wrap up the less complicated basis on the Trend Setter, so I won’t prolong the well-anticipated show.”_

_“Thank you very much, Mr. Urie! That was both educational and entertaining; you could fare well as a host here in the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air!”_

_“Aww, you flatter me well, Mr. Fischbach!”_

_“Please, just Mark, Mr. Urie. I think we’re well acquainted to drop the formalities, but as for Ms. Blue Jewel I don’t think I can drop the formalities around her! She has this air of aristocratism that it’ll be impossible for me to stop adding in the honorifics.”_

_“I seem to be right about my expectations and insights about you, Mr. Fischbach; you are indeed a charming and down-to-earth man. I adore that.”_

_“Thank you, Ms. Blue Jewel! My, everyone is being so nice to me this week! What did I do to deserve this fuel for my possible narcissism? Oh right, this hell of an amazing job.”_

**_Everyone laughed the remark that the radio host gave, including the snorts, chuckles, that one exhale from the nose and actual laughter from the various listeners, including Jack, of course._ **

“Oh come on! He’s hilarious!”

**_I do admit; he indeed is._ **

_“Well, Ms. Blue Jewel—”_

_“I foresee that you’re going to ask me a question about me, am I correct?”_

_“Oh, you’re playing this game, huh, Ms. Blue Jewel? Alright then! Tell me: What was I going to ask?”_

_“Hmm. I think you’re going to ask about my ability to predict the possible choices in the future, why did I choose to be a singer when I can be a fortuneteller that is almost always correct and at some point, you’re going to phone me and ask what to cook that’s appropriate for a dinner for two. It’s quite unclear with whom or whether it is a date or not, but nonetheless, that is what you’ll ask.”_

_“Well, Ms. Blue Jewel, you’re almost right! Almost, because that last prediction just came out of nowhere.”_

_“It’s the future, Mr. Fischbach; ever changing and fickle.”_

_“That is true. Also—”_

  
_“No, Blue Jewel is just a stage name. My real name-Well, a part of it-is Sapphire. Some call me Sophie, actually.”_

_“Wow, that’s amazing, Mrs. Blue Jewel! Anyways, I think I’ve tire out our guests for too long. They just finished performing and I had to interrogate— I mean interview them. Yes. Interview, indeed. And now, a word from our amazing sponsors! Without them, we’d be broke, non-existent and more importantly; not famous, so at least hear them out.”_

**_Jack chuckled at the ending statement before the break started. The voice in the radio was gone, replaced by sponsors that he didn’t really care for; mainly he can’t afford all of them with his underpaid paycheck. He stood up and went to open the window, taking a breath of fresh air and hopefully not falling down._ **

“I can’t tell whether that’s genuine care or just extra flavorful commentary to my demise.”

_**‘Tis a mystery.** _

_**Music still plays from the actual stage, and the Irishman still hears it. He shuts his eyes and sighs, straightening himself and watching the night sky.** _

“What time is it, again?”

**_I think it’s a quarter to nine already, Jack._ **

  
“Damn, that late already? But, uh, thank you, uh… I haven’t really named you since you sound both masculine and feminine.”

**_I’m content without a name, actually. But I think you and I will get and awkward feel when you’ll refer me as “Narrator.”_ **

“That is true, though. How about ‘Sam’? There are women who are called Sam, deriving from Samantha or they’re simply named Sam. It’s already obvious that there are men who are called Sam.”

**_That is actually very nice. You have given me a name that’s rather nice and befitting and you have taken consideration to two genders, possibly neither of the two, and me, a figment of your imagination that you cope with your loneliness and your wildest dreams. Well, that may label you as crazy, but that’s a sweet gesture._ **

“I don’t know whether to be grateful or irritated.”

_“And now, we welcome you back to the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air! Now, we’ll show you the next attraction to be seen. Please welcome the Firecracker and their daring performances tonight! Sounds like someone is playing with fire tonight! I can already tell that this act will blow you away!”_

**_There naturally was laughter at the joke that the host gave. Clever one, if I do say so myself. And Jack is snorting, too._ **

_“Jokes aside, do be careful in watching this, dearest audience! Don’t go any closer when the act starts and dearest listeners, don’t attempt to recreate this highly dangerous stunt! Now, do sit back and enjoy the Firecracker.”_

“Why is he so nice and caring? It’s rare to see people like that these days. I admit that I’m kind of swooned over. And I also know that you’re fucking grinning cheek to cheek, stop it. I can see through your non-existent face so fucking stop.”

**_As the performance begins, crackles and sizzles emanate through the radios of many. As for our main personality here, Jack simply listens to the fiery and explosive performances above him. The broadcast ballroom was just above him, so he can’t directly see it. He can only listen to it, just like a radio but without a said device._ **

**_For the nth time that I have to repeatedly narrate, he was content about this._ **

“Well fucking sorry for having a positive outlook in my bleak life.”

_**Good Lord, aren’t you mildly sassy today?** _

“Only just mild? I’m way more than that; I just don’t have the energy to unleash my full potential.”

**_Oh, the performance is nearly ending! Does time really pass that fast? Nevertheless, the deeds were done and the final act was nearly coming in close. The chief stage hand, Leticia Sauxtiere, was barking out orders to the crew for equipment to set up on the stage._ **

_“Get out the way! This machine is heavy, it can injure person! Move out now!”_

**_You see, every night’s show ends with a story. Oh-It’s not a fictional one, but it’s real, alright. Real people telling real yet bizarre stories on live radio-Well, it’s not really live. They have this giant tape recorder machine that they have to put on stage and it plays a tale from someone else’s own mouth; there’s no actual person, telling the story in front of dozens of people in the—_ **

“Ssh! Keep quiet! You know these stories are my favorite part of the entire show and everyone got the gist on what you’re trying to say, even though your only listener is me, so shut your trap for second! Please! I’m excited what on what’s next!”

 ** _That ‘please’ wasn’t really necessary in shutting me up, but I still appreciate that. Well, you’ll see for yourselves_**.

 _“And now ladies and gentlemen, what you’re about witness is something a little different than our usual schedule. Oh, yes, we’ll still be telling tales from the bizarre experiences from actual people. This one isn’t too extraordinary, however. This requires bravery and mental preparation, and the speaker, still nervous, didn’t let their voice falter. You may find this voice a tad bit familiar, but let’s keep the silence and the reactions still. And now, I present to you all:_ **I Must Confess from the Crevices of my Heart.** _”_

“That sounds odd and romantic. Is it about someone being stalked and having a horrible experience?”

**_Mark Fischbach stepped in to the tape recorder, raising a hand to push the play button. His hand then stopped, hovering over the button, almost hesitant on what he was about to play. He simply shook his head, pushed up his glasses with his other hand and pushed it to play._ **

**:====================:**

  
Have you ever fallen in love with someone whom you thought didn’t exist within the circles of your life? And then when you finally looked at them, they look absolutely perfect?

I have seen this one person around over the span of months, but due to the limitations of time, fast-paced preparation and their job that requires a lot of cleaning, I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to them.

I’m usually the man who wouldn’t judge from the cover; I’d rather scratch the surface first and dig deeper to know who they really are. I know, I’ve never gotten the chance to at least interact with them, I’ve only seen what they looked like. But let me tell you this; they looked like an angel. Their pale skin made it look like they’re radiating a white glow, their eyes are blue as the ocean and when I get a glimpse at them and they look at me and smiled, and it feels like I’ve been blessed by the angels and their hierarchy.

Of course, that’s impossible. Or maybe it is, considering that the same person always wears a hat and keeps it down, and we are in an orbiting human circus that might magnetize other peculiarities. They could be sporting a halo underneath the hat, or their hair is greying up or unnaturally colored. I wouldn’t care either way.

The only interaction that I have made with them was them, cleaning my room. They were silent for the first moments, brows scrunching, focused and looking cute. It was quiet; the air can be cut with a knife. I hated it. So I broke the ice.

Oh, **he** sounded melodious! I love at how optimistic, animated and expressive he is, almost knocking out the broom and mop with him, but it definitely knocked the breath out of me. I swear to the earth, I feel like I’m trying to reach out to the heavens to get another glimpse of him, to feel his hands that are as soft as wings, to look into his kind ocean eyes and to hear his voice again, accompanied with the flutes, lyres and a choir from the angels around him.

I am a magnet for attention; people claim that my radio persona is rather charming, my looks are of gods, voice velvet and rich and expressive. But if you were to mess up my slick hair, rid my fanciest suit away and remove the stage, the lights and the microphone, you’ll not see a magnet. You’ll see regular old Mark Edward Fischbach, humane, normal, just like that person I love. Just like you, listeners.

I wish that the person of my interest knows that I’m talking about him and I want this message to be heard from his ears. Wherever you are; I’m ready to talk to you and I want to see you. I’d gladly chat with you if you are interested or stray away if you refuse. Just tell me the word.

Forgive me, dearest audience, for this recording isn’t like the previous ones we had. They were filled with stories that involves strange events, horrid experiences, the supernatural, or acts of feat or bravery. This isn’t a stunt nor staged, but it requires the bravery of the contortionists, stunt artists, magicians, and trainers of animals and everyone who participated in the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air. The bravery of coming out with the truth of how I feel, despite at how silly this sounds.

I hope you forgive me. I simply wanted to say what has been lodged in my throat for quite a while and, uhm, I’m glad it’s out. I… oh God. For once, the talkative host is out of words to say. I’m rendered speechless, and it’s because of a man whom I’m infatuated of, slowly turning into something I haven’t felt in a long time: romantic love. I felt like he’s the reason why my head is topsy-turvy, my heart is as loud as the bass drum in the orchestra, and other metaphors that I cannot kind in the top of my head.

This is probably the most anticlimactic story in the history of the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air and the tape recorders of the numerous interesting stories that you could’ve hear. I’ve recorded this recently, but I hesitate on playing this at all. But a nagging voice in my head said that I must play it, and play I did.

Do I regret this? Yes. Will I make a futile attempt to at least stop this? No. I’m regretful, but I must persevere. For my own validity of norm, for wanting said person of interest to know what I’ve been meaning to say, for the ambiguously positive or negative reply, for… For love. Yeah, for love…

I love him, even if we had less interaction and conversation than a usual person would normally have. I may be the magnet for lights, but he’s also a polar opposite magnet to me, as well. And I’d like to get closer and closer to you.

  
**:====================:**

 

**_The air was silent, with nothing but the sounds of footsteps, going to the tape recorder machine and the machine itself, whirring itself to a closure. It clicked, meaning that was finished, and the host simply sighed and pulled out the tape from the machine. He looked to his audience, faces hard to decipher on what they are feeling and what is their reaction. He looked at them, gave a weak smile, bowed down this head and then began to slowly walk away from the stage._ **

**_A clap came to sound. Slow, but it’s definitely there. The host looked up, and lo and behold, it was Mr. Urie and Blue Jewel, standing and clapping to Mark Fischbach, as if that he too made a circus-worthy performance._ **

“A marvelous declaration, Mark, well done! You have more courage than my own entire being and I love it!”

“I have seen that this was going to happen and I stand corrected. What a beautiful act, Mark! Wonderful and sincere, per usual!”

**_The audience followed after the two, creating a standing ovation. The confession, admittedly, was rather simple yet extraordinary. A simple declaration of love to someone with a little number of interaction and not knowing what they will react, but it touched the many hearts of people. More than they even admit._ **

**_But there is one soul who isn’t clapping nor standing along. In fact, they are shell-shocked and still, ever processing on what the heavens he just heard and whether it was real or not. Janitor of the Eiffel Tower, Jack, mouth open wide that it might catch files or let a ball be shot in._ **

“Am I still sleeping at this point of time? Maybe I am because that cannot be real at all. This is just a dream.”

**_No, I’m pretty sure it’s real, alright._ **

“No, that can’t be right! This must be a fake; I’m sure this is a comedy section of the show! Mr. Fischbach loves humor and humorous acts, and I’m the clumsiest worker of this place! So they noticed that I have a grace of a kangaroo shitting itself while doing stunts! And this must be an ultimatum of my shitty performance! And—”

_**Jack, what you’ve heard are one of your many dreams and fantasies, becoming true! The not-so-elusive radio host wants to talk to you, and he was the most describing you on the tape!** _

“I could be dreaming; this may not be real. I cannot believe this, holy shit.”

**_Oh, it’s real, alright. I may be a figment of your imagination that fills the void of your life with commentary and personality via flavorful text, but you and I fully know well that we both just witnessed that._ **

“I…I simply can’t comprehend on what I’ve heard; he is talking about me. The janitor of the Eiffel Tower who lives in the storage room turns out to be the person of interest of the host of the world-famous radio show the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air. Press the masses! Release the disappointment and dissatisfaction at the disaster that is me. Plus, he only judged me from my appearance and our first actual conversation! I’ll bore him out and he’ll certainly freak over my salt and pepper like hair—”

 ** _Sean. Let me give you a little piece of something called “advice._** ”

“Huh?”

**_Let’s say if that wasn’t you he was talking about. What were his initial feelings all throughout the tape when talking about person of interest?_ **

“Well, he was pretty nervous—”

**_Aside from his nervousness from coming out with the truth._ **

“…He was lovesick.”

 ** _Like you. He’s in the same shoes as you are in right now. He can understand this_**.

“God… Sam, what should I do?! Talk to him?”

**_That’s what he just wanted, so let him get what he asks for! Well, after the show._ **

“I know that… But do I have to look snazzy and suave? I don’t have a wardrobe for that!”

**_Just look presentable, for God’s sake and Aphrodite’s, too._ **

**_And with that, Jack jumped off his hammock, nearly tumbling down, grabbing his only jacket, shoes, and trusty hat. He put them on, straightening them so that he’ll at least look decent, and grabbed his cleaning utensils, too. Once the show ends, he’s determined to clean the ballroom while the host is still there, giving him a chance to talk._ **

_**The janitor burst out of his room, sprinting towards the stairs and began to climb hastily to the ballroom with a disgustingly dopey smile on his face and rose tinting on his cheeks.** _

“I thought you were my moral support and ultimate wingman here!”

**_I am; I’m just not acting like it._ **

“Fucking sassy narrators.”

**_Once the show had finished, the audience began to walk away with no contempt and malice, just happiness and smiles out of the ballroom and onto the main entrance. Some even went to the host for words of gratitude, kudos and pats in the back. Mark Fischbach smiled through them all and thanked them otherwise. Once there was no audience left, just him, Leticia Sauxtiere and the gaffers and equipment crew, the “ON AIR” light and the spotlights flashed out and he left out a sigh and frowned._ **

“This has to be the most emotionally exhausting day I’ve had.”

“You were a pile of nerves, basically."

**_The chief stage hand, Leticia, walked towards him, a rare small smile plastered on her face. The host looked at her, and gave a tired smile with whatever energy he has left._ **

“I’m definitely going to sleep immediately once I get home.”

“And drool all over your sheets and pillows, possibly making a new attraction for the circus.”

  
“Leticia.”

“Introducing, the ‘Fishstream Falls’! Created by your host, Mark Fischbach who is still sleeping!”

_**He groaned and flipped the bird at the woman as she laughed heartily at the possible addition. When she calmed down, she wiped a tear from her eye and wheezed a bit, leading to a coughing fit. The host snorted.** _

“Never speak of that again, Fischbach.”

“No promises!”

“But you ought to go on ahead. It’s late, you’re tired, and I’m tired, so go!”

**_Mark Fischbach, no, Mark. The show is over, so the aura of professionalism has disappated to regular old Mark. He smiled at her, gave a little wave, and began to walk backstage to dress back to his casual wear at his dressing room. As he walked towards there, hazed and droopy, someone ran towards him at a rather fast speed, sending both of them and the cleaning materials the person held to the ground._ **

**_It surely woke up the man back to reality and the perpetrator was in shock, apologizing reverently, saying that it’s their janitor duty time already and quickly standing back up to their feet to move on to their way. Mark grabbed the standing person’s hand and pulled him back down, his small smile growing larger and larger at who is front of him._ **

“It’s you! It really is you!”

**_Mark lunged towards the janitor, enveloping him in a rather bone-crushing embrace and digging his face on the crook of the janitor’s neck. The janitor of the Eiffel Tower, Jack, has been hugged by the man of his dreams and idol, Mark Fischbach. It definitely made his pale cheeks go beet red._ **

**_…Also, do something Jack! Talk to him! I’m being the motivational support that you required so I’m doing my job right now! Talk!_ **

“Uh, Mr. Fischbach?”

“Just Mark, please. I’m much more comfortable with my name, uh… Your name, please?”

“Oh! I, um, I’m Jack, janitor of this place. Not the entire tower, though, just the broadcast ballroom.”

**_The man in front of Jack flashed a little but bedazzling smile that is probably worth a million euros, that alone making Jack’s heart hammer like the drums emitting from the Orchestral bird (an one of a kind bird that can make sounds from 46 kinds of instruments in an orchestra, excluding viola), and head spin like the Masked Chaotic Contortionist (a rather amandantly masked man who has a grace of a gazelle and flexibility of something that can bend stretch really quick, all while maintaining a form akin to Jack's, but much taller than his own 5'9 or 5'10 stature.)_ **

“That’s a fitting name for someone who’s very spry and nimble.”

“I get that a lot, actually… Oh God, I’m very sorry! I hit you and here, stand up.”

**_The janitor quickly stood up and gave out a hand to the still-lying man, and Mark took it, pulling himself up._ **

“Again, I’m very sorry for the rush.”

“No, no, Jack, it’s alright! I get that you’re in a hurry, being janitor of the ballroom and all.”

“That doesn’t stop me from feeling bad and well, letting you down quite literally.”

“I assure you, I’m alright, but thank you for helping me up, though.”

**_A minute of silence looms over the two men, awkwardly scratching their necks and looking elsewhere. They both had nothing to say, and they both know perfectly well why._ **

**_… Oh, come on Jack! Say! Something! Talk about the tape!_ **

“Uh, Mr.—”

“Please, Jack, just Mark.”

“Right. About the tape…”

“It’s alright if you refuse. I can understand why; we just met and—”

“Why me?”

“What?”

**_The Irishman looked down to the floor, fiddling with his own hands. A look of shame and a bout of insecurity had taken over his entire body, forcing his mouth and opening his heart to say a declaration:_ **

“I don’t mean to be rude and all, but I think you’re mistaken. I’m not an angel-like person, sir. I have many flaws, such as my many fuck-ups in cleaning, pissing chief stage hand, Leticia Sauxtiere, being the clumsiest mess around. Even before I went to Paris, I had always been flawed and too flawed. Too loud, too unfocused, too ambitious, too immature; that was and is me. And when I came, I let my stupid ass be robbed while I was asleep on the train, leaving me broke with all of my savings gone and my dream to be like you, or something like you, vanish immediately…You judged me wrong from what I looked like, sir. I I’m too flawed—”

“Jack, please.”

_**The janitor looked up, tears smeared all over his face, realized that he was crying. The host, chest constricting and heart drenched, went towards the man and hugged him, letting him cry on him. Jack hugged back, buried his face further on the man’s chest, embarrassed on breaking down at the second actual encounter of his idol.** _

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not for me… I just revealed that I’m very insecure to a man I adore in many ways.”

“…Was that a confession?”

“…Maybe.”

_**Mark pulled Jack out from his chest, bearing a gentle smile on his face and a light flush on his cheeks. His hands, calloused and rough, traveled to the sides of Jack’s face and wiped the tears with his thumbs.** _

“Let me tell you a thing or two about me. You might wanna get cozy in my dressing room for this… If you are interested, though! I won’t force you and all, disappointing but understandable, and you have your—”

**_A finger shyly went through Mark’s lips, effectively shushing the ever-talkative host. Jack wasn’t sobbing anymore-well, there are still tear stains on his face-but he’s smiling at Mark, and then he nodded at him, prompting him to go at the dressing room. They both rushed to the room quickly, smiling like fools, and making themselves comfortable at what Mark has to say._ **

“You ready to hear some facts of me that might change your mind?”

“Go for it.”

“Well, this may seem impossible to believe, but I’ll die if I’ll drink alcohol.”

“That’s a bit exaggerating.”

“It’s true! To me, it’s like an allergy and I was diagnosed not to drink too much or at all.”

“How come?”

“Well, it’s because of my mixed race. I’m part Korean, and Koreans have this genetic thing where…”

**_As one thing led to another, the conversation grew longer and lighter and brighter. The two men chatted away, passing time rather quick and growing fonder at each other than ever. The smiles exchanged, the stories told, the touches lingered and space between them drawing closer. As they were chatting away, the clumsy Jack has accidentally knocked over something from the vanity and it fell down._ **

**_What fell down was a clock, still working, and the time was a quarter to midnight, shocking both the men and apologizing for delaying each other. Before the janitor could exit the room and leaving Mark be and actually doing his job, he was stopped with a “Wait!” from Mark and was grabbed by the wrist. He was then spun around twice, and then he was face to face with the host, cheeks equally as red as his._ **

**_Jack just realized at how tiny he is, compared to Mark. He was built, but not sculpted like Mark. He’s smaller in frame and shorter, too. He had to look up at the other man to make direct eye contact._ **

“…Yes, Mark?”

“Can I…Can I see you again? Is this okay? This might not go well with you, considering that—”

“Mark!”

“I, uh, yes Jack?”

“I’d love to talk to you again! I’d be both an honor and a delight to actually talk to you.”

_**It took a little moment of contemplation to finally make a bold and maybe rash decision as a replacement of words of gratitude. Jack stood up to his toes, encircling his arms around Mark’s waist, pulling himself up further and giving a peck on the host’s cheek. He whispered him a farewell and then lowered himself and left the room.** _

"I'll see you tomorrow. Stay safe and good night, Mark."

"Yeah... You too, Jack."

_**That certainly made Mark Fischbach fluster and giggle like a kid at the thought of someone he had been deeply interested on likes him back and would love to talk to him again! The thought made him drunk in love and also cover his burning face with his hands, no consideration of his own glasses.** _

_**It was a bold move for both of them, but aren’t they glad that they were stupid enough to do it. After all, it pushed them into the edge, but the abyss beyond said edge has saving grace and salvation for both of them. A chance of love, redemption, admission and acceptance.** _

_**As the janitor hums along, finally beginning his cleaning duties at his lonesome, and the radio personality was leaving the tower with a skip and stride on his steps. Both felt something new, something that they’re going to get used to feeling. It was the feeling of lovesickness, disgustingly sweet and filling them more and more to the brim.**_

_**Both men felt it and loved it, just letting their hearts beat erratically and feel it. They both can’t wait what’s in store tomorrow. And so will I, too.** _

_**///** _

**Author's Note:**

> that was surely something. terrible ending for me thooo ugghfghfh—
> 
> also, i promise that Chapter 2 of my first fic that has a very lengthy title will come out soon enough! i was really busy working on this and i love and hate this fic omg _(:з」∠)_
> 
> criticisms are much appreciated, even though it's painful! sometimes pain can be your buddy through times. and hope you all have a good time and a decent or good day!
> 
> origin of title: "HOUSEWIFE RADIO" by GHOST ft. GUMI English


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